


Tickle Bros

by Stark_Black



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, birthday drabble, cuddly stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stark_Black/pseuds/Stark_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Birthday drabble for <a href="http://tres13.tumblr.com/">Tres13</a> on Tumblr. Just some Dave/John fluffy stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tickle Bros

His back is to you, his head rests on the pillow. His breathing is soft and even, but you know he isn’t asleep.

You know he isn’t “just tired” like he'd mumbled when you’d asked him what’s up.

He had kicked off his shoes and headed straight down the hall. No buck-toothed grin, no jokes about your bottle of apple juice on the old coffee table. Just a shrug and averted eyes and a soft click as the door to his bedroom closed.

You had opened the door without knocking and now you stand at the threshold, invading his privacy like a world-class douchebag. You don’t even care if he wants to be left alone because you don’t want him to be alone and holy shit you’ve become your brother and you didn’t even see it coming.

You cross the room to sit on his bed and the frame screams beneath your weight.

“Rough day?” you ask.

“No,” he says quietly, “not really.”

This kind of thing has happened before, but it’s sort of rare. He doesn’t get this way often. Humor and sarcasm are like his hammer and shield and he wields them with a skill surpassed only by yourself.

Well, and Rose. And Jade. And Karkat too, if you were being totally honest.

“Want a grilled cheese?”

“No thanks.”

You go silent.

They had really done a number on him.

There was probably some asshat—or possibly a whole group of asshats—walking around right this moment needing a good old-fashioned beating.

A Strider style beating.

Send those shitheads back in time to die of hunger in the depression.

Don’t blink motherfuckers.

You kick off your shoes and crawl over to him. You sink into the covers, and press your chest up against his back. You rest on one elbow so you can see his face as you run your fingers through his hair.

It’s still damp from the rain outside.

His eyes slip closed and you wrap an arm around his waist. His hand finds yours and your fingers lace together.

“You work tonight?” he asks.

“Nope.”

You watch the corner of his mouth turn up and you brofist yourself ironically in your head.

You pull yourself in closer; tighten your arm around him. You nuzzle into his neck and run your lips over his skin.

“Hey, John…” you whisper.

He shifts.

“Yeah?”

You take a breath and sing softly into his hair.

“ _Cause I’ll stand beside you through the years, you’ll only cry those happy tears, and though I make mistakes, I’ll never break your heart_ …”

He laughs into the pillow and tries to pull you off.

“No. Dave. Stop.”

“ _And I swear by the moon and the stars in the sky, I’ll be there… I swear like a shadow that’s by your side, I’ll be there_ …”

“Ha ha ha! Dave! No, das gay!”

He twists in your arms and struggles to get fingers under your shirt.

You don’t stop, but you’re definitely yelling out the lyrics now.

“ _For better or worse, till death do us part, I’ll love you with every beat of my heart, I sweeeeeeaaaa—_ ”

He muffles your yell-singing with one hand and tickles your sides with the other. You jerk involuntarily and hold back the cackle that threatens to crawl up your throat.

He’s laughing.

He’s smiling.

You pull his hand away and kiss him.

Life is good again.

~End~


End file.
